Mysterious Troubles
by Quazie89
Summary: Days before Patch goes on his London adventure, Perdita has a disturbing dream. Pongo tries to comfort her. Both dogs are unaware that Cruella had a secret, which is actually a reference to the Kingdom Hearts games.
1. Mysterious Troubles

Mysterious Troubles

Lightening crackled. Thunder roared. Jumping at the sound of the noise, I raised my spotted head up from the cushioned window sill and peered outside.

It was dark, raining, and rather depressing, reminding me of the night when Perdita had given birth to her first litter of puppies.

Perdita herself seemed to be feeling the same way. She was stirring beside me, emerging from her troubled slumber. Disoriented, she blinked her eyes at me and yawned, "Pongo, dear, have you been awake this whole time?"

Sheepishly, I nodded. "Nearly the whole time, dear. I managed to get a few snores in before the storm hit."

She shook her head at me, not too surprised by my reply. She was wearing a smile on her face, however, when she nestled her muzzle across my paws moments later.

We didn't talk for the remaining of the night. Around one in the morning Perdita had eventually fallen asleep. Unfortunately, I remained awake for the rest of the early dawn, dwelling on the past year.

For me, it was still hard to believe that Cruella De Vil had been fully disposed of. The old witch had been badgering us for so long that her absence didn't seem quite too real. It made me wonder if the police had really caught her.

Feeling foolish for thinking such thoughts, I shook my head and told myself not to fret over past matters. I had complete faith in Scotland Yard. The famous Metropolitan Police service was sure to have Curella and her two henchmen, Horace and Jasper, in jail by now

Still…no matter how much I told myself this, I couldn't keep from worrying. Sure, my fears were understandably for the one-hundred-and-one Dalmatian puppies that my pet, Roger, had so graciously taken into his home, which now also belonged to his wife, Anita, who was Perdita's own pet, but something was telling me that my fears went much deeper.

The only problem was, no one appeared to notice how bothered I had become. Poor Perdita was so busy with the puppies that she hardly had the freedom to attend to her husband. Even Roger, who usually found some way to spend a considerate amount of time with me, had forgotten to take me out on my daily walk that morning after the storm. He was too busy writing his songs.

Also, Anita had become rather industrious of late. She was writing a novel, a book about which no one in the household knew anything about. Even Nanny, our housekeeper, was as clueless as I was.

Nanny! Now there was a person who was sure to confide with me. She was such a dear, sweet old lady. She had been working and living with Roger and Anita for a long time. She had even helped deliver my wife's puppies!

Alas! Nanny was also rather occupied that morning. She cooed to me a little, as she worked, but she was completely focused on dusting and cooking breakfast. Still… that was an important job! Even I knew that breakfast was the healthiest meal of the day, and luckily Nanny cooked the best breakfast in all of London!

Luck…speaking of luck…thinking of such a thing steered my mind onto a different track: Lucky, who was of my blood and not one of the puppies who had been rescued from Hell Hall, where Cruella and her henchman had once dwelled.

They were very few words that could describe Lucky. Perdita and I saw him as a blessing, a little miracle. Everyone did. Perhaps this was the reason why he is the spoiled one now…or it could be the explanation as to why the other puppies were teasing him.

Roly, Patch, Freckles…they all did it. Everyday they would push him around, steal his food. This dodgy behavior worried me. Before breakfast that morning, I decided to ask Lucky how he felt, thinking it would be best to do so before the Thunderbolt Adventure Hour came on later that day.

Who is Thunderbolt, you might ask? Well, he is envied by just about every dog in London, including myself. The puppies love him. Every evening before dinner they all gather around the TV to see how Thunderbolt, who was a pure-bred German Shepard, would vanquish his arch nemesis, Dirty Dawson.

Just recently, Thunderbolt has gained a sidekick, a little ginger Welsh corgi who went by the name of Lightening. Believing that both dogs would be a good subject to start a conversation with Lucky, I exited the kitchen, where I had just ventured into to see Nanny, and traversed into the living room, where half the puppies were just lazing about.

Not too surprisingly, I found Lucky curled across the top of the television set, away from all the other puppies. His ears were drooping and his eyes downcast. To my delight, he perked up a bit when he saw me coming toward him.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?" the little runt asked me as he leaped from the television set to stand before me. He was trying to display a strong visage but I knew him too well.

"What's troubling you, son?" I asked sincerely, draping one of my paws across his back. He pointed his nose at me.

"Nothing really, Dad. I just wish that Dinnertime would hurry up and get here!"

As he said this, I knew he was lying. I didn't comment on his fib, however. Instead, I cleared my throat and said, "Son, it's not even breakfast yet! What is it that you like about Thunderbolt anyway? Is he better than me, you think?"  
Lucky giggled, which was something that I had been hoping for. "No, Dad. You're the best! I just like seeing Dirty Dawson get licked!"

Grinning foolishly, I chuckled, "Well, in that case…I'll leave you alone. Are you sure that the others aren't bothering you?"

Lucky was quick to shake his head. "Oh, no, Pop! They'll get over it. They always do! Next month they'll have a new victim," he informed me, his eyes dancing mischievously.

Curious, I inquired, "Who?" Lucky cocked his head teasingly.

"Patch," he muttered in a low voice, watching me frown. I was about to ask him why but, before I could, Nanny called the pups into the kitchen and, before I knew it, I was getting trampled!

Nevertheless, even under the tiny little paws that were stamping me, I somehow knew that Lucky would be right about his brothers and sisters. And he was.

* * *

After breakfast, a troubled Perdita crept up to me as I reclined on the living room sofa, listening to Roger as one of his tunes floated downstairs from the attic.

"He will be the end of mind," Anita twittered as she swayed into the living room after Perdita, who quickly slinked out of her pet's way. Anita usually worked on her book down in the basement but she occasionally came upstairs for a quick cup of tea.

Bemused, I watched as the flustered woman entered the kitchen and, removing my auburn eyes off her retreating back, focused my gaze on Perdita.

"She's nearly done with the book, I think. She keeps on talking about the last chapter, but…" Perdita trailed off, lowering her head.

"Perdy, darling, what's wrong?" I questioned her, knowing that something was deeply puzzling my wife.

Sighing, she leaped onto the couch after I made room for her and replied, "It's this dream I've been having…I had it last night but it's been worrying me for months now…ever since we defeated Cruella…"

Concerned, I stared at her. "Perdy, there's no need to worry. Cruella's surely in jail by now. What are you talking about?"

At my question, Perdita shot me a blank look. "That's just the problem, Pongo. I…I don't know what it is but…it's in my dream…every night… and it's in Hell Hall!"

Trying to keep myself composed, I nudged Perdita gently with my nose and told her, softly, "Perdy, I believe that you had the dream but…what would be in that dreary old place after all that's happened now?"

"I don't know…something strange…" she answered, and if I could've turned whiter than I already was, I would have. Strange…what could be stranger than Hell Hall itself? The old manor was so ancient and empty…

Unable to come up with an answer, I lapped my wife's cheek with a dry tongue and whispered, "Enough. Let's not worry anymore. In a few days we'll be away from this place. We'll be in the country, away from Cruella, all right?"  
Perdita gave me a small smile. "I'm all right now, Pongo. Now that your here…"

She didn't get to finish the sentence, for within minutes she was asleep. Exhausted, it wasn't long before I was asleep with her.

Dinnertime came quicker than I thought it would. Upon the arrival of its end, all the puppies grouped up together in the living room, fighting each other for the perfect viewing spot as they settled down on top of whatever furniture they could find. Some of them were just happy to lie on the floor.

Patch, as usual, sat right at the foot of the TV, his nose pressed up against the screen as always. Shaking my head, I watched my son as his tail swept across the floor, wondering where Lucky was.

It didn't take me long to find him. My little miracle was, in fact, lying near Peridta and myself. He was curled up at our feet for protection, keeping a weary eye on his fellow brother and sisters, who were all sitting up in anticipation of the upcoming Thunderbolt episode.

"Doing all right, son?" I asked him as quietly as I could. Perdita looked at me out of the corner of one of her dazzling eyes.

"Sssh, Pongo, its starting!" she advised me in a teasing whisper, and Lucky laughed. He had been listening to us the whole time!

The room fell quiet then. As it did, the TV became a living thing. Instantly we were all surrounded by the sound of exploding gunshots as Dirty Dawson charged onto the screen, firing his rifle as he fled on his steed. Thunderbolt was chasing the outlaw down a ravine in the middle of a huge, gaping canyon.

Caught in the excitement of the enduring chase, none of us were anticipating the booming clap of lightening that flashed outside the house, beginning another storm which commenced during the first ten minutes of the show.

The puppies started to yip loudly at the flash of light, which was quickly followed by a round of thunder. Perdita and I winced. Our children were now barking and howling as the storm brewed outside. The lights were beginning to flicker.

"Sorry, children, it looks like we'll have to go to bed early tonight!" Perdita shouted over the noise, rising up on her long, limber legs. Yawning, I echoed her movements and stood up, feeling a bit shaky. It never failed to amaze me how storms could come and go so quickly. Hopefully, this one would behave in the same manner.

The puppies started to protest loudly but, at my and Perdita's urgings, they eventually stood up and began to file into a line. As I started to herd them upstairs, Perdita helped to count them. Unfortunately, at that moment, the lights abruptly went out. They didn't come back on.

"Oh, dear," I heard Perdita say in the darkness, and I stopped moving. I could hear Roger and Anita coming toward us.

"This is some wild weather that we've been having lately," Roger was saying, and I turned to face his voice. When he came into my view, I saw that he was holding a lantern. Anita was clinging to one of his long, dangling arms and Nanny was creeping close behind the couple.

Apparently, the humans had been caught off guard as well.

Not knowing what to think of this, I hung my tail in between my legs and finished getting the puppies into bed. Once they were tucked in, my wife and I curled up beside each other at the base of the living room sofa, forming a large, spotted ball. It was going to be another long night…

* * *

By sunup, the storm had abated. This was a great relief to everyone. Even Perdita didn't seem as worried about her recurring dream as she had been yesterday.

Our renewed joys, however, were quickly overshadowed by the swift past of time as Roger and Anita rushed to finish the packing that they had started weeks earlier. The couple had been working feverishly to store all their prized possessions before moving day, which was now only a couple of days away.

The puppies were all excited. I watched them for the biggest part of the day, admiring how fast they could run and leap about. It almost made me wish I was young again.

Unfortunately, I was soon plagued by more troubles, troubles that left me little time to dream. They concerned my son, Patch, who was now being teased by his brothers and sisters. Lucky had warned me of this.

Nonetheless, I was still appalled by the hostility that the children unleashed upon the lost pup, who got his name from the black spot which circled his left eye. More than once I considered intervening with the other puppies' torments but Perdita prevented me from doing so.

"He'll never learn to handle himself, Pongo," she said, shocking me. This didn't sound like my beloved Perdita!

Flabbergasted, I blinked at her and swallowed. At times like these, I wondered if I really knew my wife as good as I thought I did.

Laughing at my reaction, Perdita smiled and licked my muzzle. "Oh, Pongo, don't worry. A mother knows best," she said, surely, and I sighed wistfully.

"Did you have the dream again?"

Put off by my question, Perdita took a step back from me, shaking her head vigorously. "Oh, no, Pongo. I actually slept quite well last night, despite the storm. I think the dream was just that, a dream…"

"A very mysterious dream," I remarked, and said no more when Perdita nodded in consent. The rest of the day, thankfully, went be without anymore predicaments.

* * *

The next morning, the last of the moving arrangements were made. It was official. In two more days we would be leaving London behind. I could almost smell that country air already.

Regrettably, there was still another matter that I had to debate over, first, before I could really set my mind at ease. For, last night, Perdita had had her dream again. Over breakfast she told me that it had been more disturbingly vivid than ever.

I told her not to worry, that it was just a dream. She took my solution calmly enough but, when we went out on our daily walk with our pets that evening (they had both decided that it was time for a good break form all the housework), Perdita seemed deeply worried and I asked her what was so wrong.

"I think I know what that thing is, now, in Hell Hall," was what she finally admitted to me as we sat upon a lushly, green hill that overlooked London. I blinked at her in surprise.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling somewhat ignorant. Perdita sighed.

"My fear. _Our_ fear, for the puppies," she murmured, rubbing her head against my side. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "It just keeps growing and growing…its telling me that Cruella's coming back…I just know it…"

For some reason, Perdita's theory greatly relieved me. The same worries that had been plaguing me for the past two months had been bothering Perdita as well. This made me feel greatly more at ease.

"Your not alone, Perdita. You're not alone," I assured her, and suddenly all of my troubles were forgotten.


	2. Epilogue: The Secret

Epilogue:

The Secret

_Christmas, not too many months ago…_

Cruella seethed. Dismayed and ruined, she gazed down at her demolished car, hating herself as much as she did Horace and Jasper at that moment. How could she have let herself get so carried away? How?  
"Lady, we're freezing are butts off out here! We want to go home!" Horace complained, suddenly, and Cruella swerved to face him.

"Shut up! This is entirely your fault, you buffoons!" she roared, stomping her heels in the snow when neither of her two goons flinched in fear. They had gotten used to her tantrums by now. It could be possible that they weren't afraid of her anymore.

Jasper voiced her worst fears. "Ah, come on, Horace, we don't need her!" the tall, stork-like man boastfully proclaimed as he stood on his long, bony legs. Aiming his crooked nose at her, he added, "She's just as helpless as we are, now. No point in staying with her!"

Horace nodded in agreement, heaving his bulk off the ground. "You're right, Jasper. Let's go!" he concurred, ignoring Cruella's whimpering pouts as he and Jasper turned their backs on her.

"You'll be sorry for this, you fools! Trust me, you'll be sorry!" she screeched after the baduns as they fled, wishing that, for once, she was someone else.

Why couldn't she have what she wanted, anyway? The only thing she had ever desired was a nice, furry, spotted coat. Who cared if she had to murder a few hundred puppies to get one made?  
Oh, she knew the answer to that one! Sobbing in frustration, she collapsed in the snow, despising Roger and Anita with every fiber of her being. What did they see in those spotted hyenas of theirs? Really, that was all those blasted animals were.

Yet…to Roger and Anita, they were something more – they were alive to them. They had feelings and a purpose: to make them happy and her miserable!

Bleh! Who needed Anita and her bashful Beethoven in the first place? Certainly not her! No, the friendship that Cruella had once had with Anita was long gone.

Curella didn't feel any better for telling herself this, however. She was still bitter, helpless, and any moment now Scotland Yard would have her behind bars. What was she to do?

At a lost, Cruella propped her pale chin up on her long, slender hands. She could return to Hell Hall, her precious manor, but that wouldn't do her any good. Traveling on foot in this kind of weather would be like asking for a death warrant. No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't do anything.

Well, there was one thing she could use but… it was locked away in Hell Hall, a place that she couldn't quite get to right now.

This, perhaps, was probably a good thing. If she actually returned to Hell Hall, to get that one thing she needed, her foolish actions would reveal a secret that would destroy everything, including London.

_Now, that might not be such a bad idea!_ Cruella thought, becoming tickled at her own devilish scheming. Just as she was about to rejoice, a police siren wailed in the distance. She knew then that her life was officially over.

* * *

The mansion stood deep within the countryside of London. Behind its rotting, termite-infested walls, a weary adventurer could only find dusty cobwebs, rusty suits of armor, and countless other traps and surprises.

One of these surprises began to stir as it felt the plight of its mistress, who had left it here to wither and die alone.

Well, not necessarily alone. There were always the rats. Rats. The creatures were everywhere, crawling through all the cracks and cubbyholes that they could find.

What a lovely creature the rat was. What a lovely, tasty little morsel.

Drooling, the surprise, being a Heartless, slinked from its hiding place and snaked around the furniture that dotted the mansion's family room floor.

It was hungry, hungry for rats.

* * *

The farm was small, quaint, but it managed to be cozy enough. It was nestled near the Withermarsh, where Old Towser usually stood by on a hill. The old bloodhound was usually accompanied by Lucy, a gossipy goose.

From the hill, the two friends could see Hell Hall in the distance. The old manor stood, like a menacing, looming shadow, in the moon's light, blocking its glowing warmth from the rest of the land.

A couple of months ago, the animals that lived across the grim landscape had learned of Cruella de Vil's capture through the Twilight Bark, which was carried all the way from London to the dark countryside in which they lived. The news had brought joy and celebration to all.

Unfortunately, since then, there hasn't been any news whatsoever. The animals were now suffering from a lack of any interesting subjects to talk about. Sgt Tibbs, a ginger tabby cat who lived in the farm that neighbored the Withermarsh, was one of the animals who were currently hoping for any news or gossip.

His hopes, like everybody else's, were in vain. He knew this. Even though he was sitting on a horse's lump, appearing dubious to humans, Tibbs knew he was only thinking wishfully. The captain was aware of this as well.

"Mister Tibbs, don't you have anything else to do?" the old, graying horse questioned the cat, who wearily sat up on its haunches.

"Nope. Nothing at all, sir!" the feline replied, giving the steed a smart salute with one of his paws, which he put up against his forehead.

With a flick of his silver mane, the Captain snorted, "In that case, go pester the Colonel. I've got to think."

Curious, Tibbs tilted his head. "About what?" he inquired, leaping from the captain's back when the horse suddenly bucked.

"Never mind. Just go to the Colonel!"

The Captain didn't have to give that order twice! Hissing quietly to himself, Tibbs reluctantly slinked away and headed for the Colonel's favorite stall, where the old sheepdog was already on the lookout.

"Wha…who's there?" the confused canine wondered as Tibbs sneaked up to the dog's side. Being cooped up in a barn for years on end hadn't approved the Colonel's senses any.

Trying to prevent a smile from plastering onto his face, Tibbs cleared his throat and said, "It's me, sir! Sergeant Tibbs reporting for duty!"

The Colonel, who had been peering inattentively over the door of his stall, abruptly turned to face Tibbs, who stood as tall and erect as he could in military fashion.

Shaking his shaggy head, the Old English sheepdog asked, "What's the news, Tibbs?"

Tibbs' ears drooped. "Nothing, sir. There hasn't been any news for quite sometime," the cat said, slowly raising his head to meet the Colonel's serious expression, which was partly concealed by the dog's dangly hair.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get out there and find some!"

At the Colonel's demand, Tibb's head shot up. "Yes, sir, right away, sir!" the tabby responded quickly and bounded out of the stall. At top speed he flew out of the barn and into the night. The Colonel watched him go.

"Is he gone?" the Captain asked from his stall. The horse had been listening to the Colonel's conversation with Tibbs. The Colonel nodded in confirmation.

"Like the wind, Captain," the ancient dog confirmed, and returned to gazing out of his stall, on alert for Towser. There was still a chance that something could go wrong…

* * *

Tibbs padded across the ground, which was slightly cold due to the chilly night air and the recent bad weather.

It had stormed earlier. The cat could tell, for the ground was still wet. Also, dark, angry storm clouds remained looming in the sky. Knowing that these were sure signs of more nasty weather to come, Tibbs kept his pace quick and sure-footed.

Traveling this way, he managed to make it to Hell Hall just before dawn. Cautious, he didn't run into the manor straight away, however. No, being a cat, he sneaked in by crawling through a hole in one of the many corrupted walls that made up the crumbling mansion. Once inside, he took a quick look around the old place.

He had been here once before, back when Curella and her henchmen had called this depressing abode home. For some reason, it seemed more frightening to him now than it had then, and Tibbs thought that this was rather peculiar.

After all, how could this dark, empty dwelling be more frightening than Horace and Jasper with weapons?

Not wanting to find the answer to that question too quickly, Tibbs began to search rapidly through the house, not knowing what he was looking for but somehow sensing that he would find something interesting here. It was his cat's instincts talking.

Minutes after he had ventured into the house, he found what he was looking for. Yet, upon discovering it, Tibbs wished he hadn't found it at all, for it was something that he hadn't been suspecting to find in this world or any other.

It was a monster, a disfigured creature which he had stumbled upon in the living room of the house, where he had first met Horace and Jasper. The two crooks had been watching TV in the room at the time but, now, there was nothing human here.

No, there was nothing here but a monster and a cat, a cat who, upon making first eye-contact with the creature, knew at once that Cruella had had more than a few skeletons lurking in her closet.

She had had a whole nest of them.

* * *

Horace and Jasper didn't get far. They got caught a few miles down the same road upon which the police later captured Cruella, who had finally decided to struggle out of the ditch she had crashed into earlier.

As the three goons were hauled off to jail, Cruella had a vision in the back of the cop vehicle. It was a vision that would give her hope in the upcoming months, months in which she would spend her time rotting in a jail cell.

Maleficent. Maleficent, the horned witch. She had been a friend of Cruella's for some time, appearing to her in secret when things got tough. When she appeared in the vision on this occasion, the ancient sorceress, who came from another world ruled by fascinating creatures called Heartless, advised Cruella to remember one thing and one thing only.

Completely mad now, Cruella asked Maleficent what that one thing was, for she had lost her mind completely. Maleficent smiled chillingly.

"Remember our little secret," she said, coolly, and vanished, leaving Cruella alone again with Horace and Jasper, who were both giving her disturbed looks. She didn't care, though. She was no longer concerned about them. At that moment, there was only one thing her mind was fixed on and for once it wasn't furs.

It was the Heartless, her little secret. Someday she vowed to come back for it. Someday.

THE END


End file.
